


Good Enough for Us

by mushembra



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bed-Wetting, Brothers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Nines is bad at deviancy, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, accidentally does the mean, bladder desperation, but his family still loves him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 02:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16171316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushembra/pseuds/mushembra
Summary: Deviancy was difficult for Nines to grasp, especially when faced with emotions that were venomous and can be wielded to hurt. And when his cruel words go too far and push his brother away, and pushes back and puts up his walls in his desire to become better.But in a bid to become a good enough, Nines never realizes that perhaps he's been good enough all along





	Good Enough for Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twinkshish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinkshish/gifts), [xSynSyx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xSynSyx/gifts).



> So this was supposed to be a bed-wetting fic and yet here we are...a lot of angst...  
> So I hope who I originally intended this to be for still enjoys it  
> And I hope the one who helped me come up with these ideas enjoys it, too  
> Damn...when did this become an angst monster?
> 
> Oh and I have the parts from Connor's perspective in bold because well, I know, this shit is confusing

If anyone were to look upon Nines from the outside, they would see a stoic, immoveable force of an android, one that held himself reserved and closed off. Many weren’t even aware he was a deviant with the demeanor he carried in his day to day on the job. But others who were closer to him, as well as the officers in the DPD, they all knew that was far from the truth. The RK900 model was as sensitive as they come, even more so perhaps than the average android (especially considering he was a specialized model). He was never destined for deviancy. Connor practically had it programmed into him as a means for CyberLife to reign in the revolution, as a means for an in to Jericho before they took control of his programming once more to put a stop to it. Nines was meant to be the final product of all of Connor’s trial runs, the ultimate detective unit to aid police departments all over the country. He was simply built for scene investigation and analysis of evidence, piecing together of the puzzles of difficult crimes. Not for human relations. He was never built for deviancy, and so was coping poorly with it.

The most recent emotions he’s been contending with have been the ugliest and most venomous of all he's encountered so far; inferiority, insecurity, and immense anxiety. And they were all targeted at himself and were all a spawn of his warped thoughts towards his brother. Connor was thriving in deviancy. Hank had told the RK900 that it wasn’t always so, that his brother had a certain time in his early deviancy that was, as he put it, ‘uncomfortably awkward’. You wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him now. He was the star of the department, and even managed to have a good relationship with Gavin Reed through use of sarcasm and biting remarks that turned into a timid respect between the two. Nines only reached that level of working well together through breaking down on their away investigation when it became clear that he was an android with a lot of problems, and Gavin couldn’t help but want to come to his aid. And didn’t that just make him feel all the more inferior? He couldn't even understand Hank's sharp wit, match it. Sure, they got along well enough, but not in the father-son way that he had with Connor. It left Nines burning with some sort of longing he couldn't quite understand.

Nines hadn’t been quite so aware that emotions could be venomous, that when misinterpreted and acted upon in the wrong way they could hurt. That is until he’s found himself at a crime scene with Connor, who was working hard with Hank going over the evidence, the other officers hanging onto his every word. He couldn’t help the frustration, the anger, the fear. He was the superior model, and while he didn’t begrudge his brother’s success, why couldn’t he measure up? Why couldn’t he succeed in the same way? This ugliness was growing into an uncontrollable wave in his chest, and before he could control it, he found himself making a regrettable decision. He stepped forward, listening in on the evidence and information the RK800 had collected, and he butt himself into the conversation with a scoff. Hank and Connor turned their heads to look upon Nines, something like shock and confusion on their faces.

“Are you quite sure about your hypothesis, Connor? If you’ll note the bullet trajectories, and going with the time of death for both victims being mere seconds from each other, there must have been more than one aggressor. No one, human nor android, could move position fast enough to kill them both from these two very different locations. But not to worry. You would have been able to assess that with more accuracy if you weren’t my predecessor.”

Nines could practically feel when his venomous words were a mistake, when they were far too much and went way too far. Connor’s expression looked stricken, hurt, and there was a hint of fear there, while Hank looked outright furious. Where had that anger come from? Where had those hurtful and cruel words bubbled forth from? What recess in his mind made him capable of such callousness? His mouth opened and closed slowly, his words now gumming up in his mind, unable to force an apology forth. His brother glanced down at his feet, smiling sadly before looking back up to the RK900, shaking his head.

“You’re absolutely right. Of course your right. I’ll just let you finish up this investigation without me, then. I wouldn’t want my inferior processing power to get in the way of your ability to work.”

Before Nines could offer out an apology, attempt to backpedal on his cruel words, his brother had already left with Hank following closely behind him, muttering an angry ‘I don’t want you back at the house tonight’ on the way out. It stung, just like his careless words must have hurt his brother. It was difficult to keep the burning onslaught of tears from falling down his face, the panic jumping his stress levels about 70%. But he was the only investigator left on scene (Gavin had off for the day, hence why he was working with Connor and Hank in the first place), so it was his duty to finish where his brother left off. But all he could think about was that stricken look on his face, the pain and sadness in his eyes, and it was all he could do to keep the bubble of pain from bursting entirely in front of his remaining co-workers. What had he done?

 ----------------

 

Nines pulled out of stasis in the early hours of the morning, finding a terrible kinking pain shooting through his neck. Since he hadn’t been welcomed to come home, he’d had no choice but to stay at the station to utilize one of the stasis terminals used by the android officer assistants that had yet to deviate. It made him feel inhuman, like he used to feel back at the CyberLife warehouse when his consciousness would come forth and remind him that he was trapped, trapped in that hell with no way of escaping before Connor had broken into the more secure levels to free him. Connor. His brother had given him a life he had never hoped would be possible, and what does he do in return? He hurts him, and the guilt was eating him up. He wasn’t even sure what he could do to make this up to him, or if he even deserved forgiveness. But the android needed to at least let his brother know he felt no ill-will towards him.

So when Connor walked in with Hank that morning, Nines was standing at his desk with a cup of coffee prepared as the RK800 enjoyed it most, a soft look of apology on his face when he would otherwise keep his expression stoic and blank as was customary when he was in public.

“Connor, I…”

What could he say to adequately express his guilt, his regret? He’d meant none of it. Connor was an android of supreme intelligence and capability, someone he admired immensely. He wanted to be more like his brother, make him proud, and yet it was something he seemed so incapable of managing. He just wasn’t getting there, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he tried to learn and emulate from the RK800. He just wanted to become a good person like his brother, he wanted to grow into his deviancy and blossom as Connor has. Not become this burdensome mess that he has become. He glanced at the floor before meeting his brother’s eyes once more. They held a veil of hurt, and yet there was that same patience he always saw that he didn’t deserve.

“What I said yesterday, it’s not the truth. I didn’t mean a word of it. I was…I’m not sure what I was, but my shortcomings do not excuse my hurting you. I’m dearly sorry. You are a more than capable mo--…person. I had no right to assume I knew better than you.”

Connor sighed softly, taking the cup of coffee from his brother, and Nines took that as a tentatively good sign. Tentatively. It was still to early to hope that things would be ok between the two of them, and that was evident in his brother’s expression.

“I forgive you, but…it’s going to take me some time to…process this. I understand that you are finding deviancy difficult, but there are consequences to your actions, brother. I don’t hate you. I still love you, but…I need a little more space for some time, I believe. That’s not to say you’re no longer welcomed home. But…perhaps just…allow me to have my free time to myself? Just for a while.”

Nines had to suppress that immense wave of upset that flooded through him, his throat constricting with the tears that threatened to burst forth. He could understand, and yet at the same time his brother was so very important and precious to him, an integral part of his life. One night without him was bad enough. But to be in the same house and have to give him space? The thought was unbearable. He needed his brother. He needed someone. And yet perhaps he deserved this for not measuring up. What was it that Gavin was always saying? 'It’s a dog eat dog world’. The RK900 couldn’t keep up, so it only made sense that he’d eventually be left behind. How long would it be before his brother realized he was a lost cause, perhaps wasn’t worth the time and patience? The thought made him sick.

All he could do for now was give his brother a curt nod and get himself to work. He would find a way to work through this. He would find a way to do his brother proud. He absolutely had to.

 --------------------

**A week has passed since the incident, and Connor was growing concerned. His brother’s cruel words came from a dark place. He knew that Nines hadn’t truly meant them somewhere deep in his mind palace that tried to think about this rationally. It didn’t prevent them from hurting all the same. But time has softened the blow, and he reached back out trying to restore things back to life as normal between the two of them. However reaching out has resulted in a goose egg. He was met day in and day out with a brother who came up with excuses, reasons for why he couldn’t do this or that. It wasn’t all the time, but enough to raise red flags. He never denied taking Sumo out for a walk, or going to the park to watch the fish swim in the pond. They were simple things the RK900 loved and brought him a sense of peace when the day left him overwhelmed. But Connor was met with sad eyes and a sadder smile and a gentle no.**

**That wasn’t the most concerning thing about his new behavior. What was even stranger was the fact he wasn’t coming to Connor for help as he used to. There were many things Nines needed help with, many things that left the android puzzled in a newly deviant life, and it typically happened often throughout the day. Instead his brother would look to him, open his mouth as if the start of a question was there, then he would shake his head and focus back on his work. But there was one problem he always needed to ask for help with no matter his hesitation, and yet he still wouldn’t go to the RK800.**

**“Gavin.”**

**Connor glanced up to see his brother standing behind Gavin, chewing nervously at his lip in that way he did when he was embarrassed or his request. This problem had always been embarrassing for him, but he had assured Nines his shyness would pass one day. But with his stress levels being so high, relieving himself on his own would be an impossibility. Yet his brother wasn’t asking him, he was asking his partner, who shooed him away with a motion of his hand. Nines' expression pinched, Connor's thirium pump clenched in sympathy.**

**“Detective Reed—”**

**“Oh my fucking god, what?!”**

**Connor winced at his brother’s instinctive flinching, prepared to intervene on his behalf. But when the detective swiveled around in his chair to give the RK900 a stern and frustrated look, his expression softened at the familiar stiff posture, legs crossed tightly together (obviously from having waited too long). With a soft sigh he rose to his feet and made to follow Nines to the bathroom. But not before giving Connor a questioning look, to which he could only shrug his shoulders. Seeking aid for that certain need had always been something Nines went to him for when he was available, and for him to not feel comfortable enough to come to him for help...It was the final straw. The RK800 was finally quite alarmed for his brother. Ever since the incident there had been some sort of switch in his behavior, like he was trying to keep himself shut away, like there was something that was keeping the brothers separated in a way they haven’t been since they first met. And yet for all of Connor’s inductive reasoning and social relations programming, he couldn't sort out the mystery that was this new behavior.**

**“Hey Connor, got a sec?”**

**Connor glanced up from where his gaze had fixated on his desktop, Gavin leveling him with a mirrored look of concern, quite unusual for someone who either usually wore a shit-eating grin or a permanent scowl.**

**“Detective?”**

**“It’s about your stubborn ass brother. Are you still fucking mad at him or what?”**

**“I—no. What gave you that impression?”**

**An exasperated sigh and Gavin was running a frustrated had through his hair.**

**“Look, the guy…you…you both really need to fucking talk. Like he’s all high strung and a god damn mess, and it doesn’t take even asking him about it to see that. He fucking needs his brother, so either you need to talk to him, or I’ll try to get him to talk to you.”**

**Connor chewed at the inside of his cheek, glancing in the direction of the bathrooms, where his brother was emerging from, looking quite relieved and yet sheepish as he always did. He’s wanted to ask Nines about the distance, about just what was bothering him, but he didn’t want to push and pry. Pushing always seemed to get the RK900 to shut down on his emotions, and it wouldn’t bring them any closer to resolving this issue. He’d gone for patience, hoping his brother would come forth in his own time. But it seems there was something rattling around in his mind palace that was preventing him from doing so. This was troubling. He knew Nines had a tendency for thinking very lowly of himself, but for him to be in a such a deeply low place. It was the only cause he could think of.**

**“Well, how about this, I’ll tell him to get that stick out his ass and uh, talk to you. Because he needs you. He just…you know. He has a hard time with feelings. But he’s fucking stuck and…you…needs his big brother. So…yeah. I’ll give him a talking to.”**

**“Thank you Gavin, I greatly appreciate it.”**

 ---------------------

Home used to be a safe place. Home used to be a place where he wasn’t stressed, where he could relax. Nines needed the time to unwind, needed the time to himself to get away from the social stimulation and general noise of the world out there in society. But now, home was filled with anxiety and walking on eggshells, reigning in his wants and needs. Perhaps his means of becoming a better person were warped, but he couldn’t afford the simple distractions, like taking Sumo on long walks, or admiring the beauty of nature. He couldn’t get that day out of his head, nor the ugly thoughts that lead to those words. To get rid of the jealousy he had to be better, so that he would never hurt Connor again.

Yet becoming better was so hard when he was constantly reminded of the ways he was inferior. His recent difficulties with emotional upheaval, his inability to block out the overwhelming stimuli that assaulted his sensors, and his inability to take care of his own needs. Home used to be where he could take care of himself, where he didn’t need help to relieve himself. But now, he just couldn’t get himself to relax enough, the guilt churning his gut in such a volatile way it nearly made him sick (if he could even get sick). It locked him up. The realization left him panic stricken, and after the first night of this incident, the very next morning, he rushed to the precinct, practically begging Gavin to help him in his desperation. Since then the precinct was the only location he could find any relief for his containment vessel, which meant he had many long hours during his off hours to wait. It was not an ideal situation, but it was the only one he had to work with.

Which left him in his current predicament, sitting at the dining room table with Connor and Hank as had been customary before this whole mess. They were enjoying their meal, bantering back and forth many smiles and laughs shared. Nines couldn’t partake of food quite yet, not until he received the upgrade procedure he had scheduled for next month. He still spent time with them at dinners, enjoying the small comforts of ‘family time’. It almost made him feel like he belonged. That was until recently, now resigning to sitting at the table silently, anxiously sipping at the drink in front of him to calm his nerves, despite knowing it was a bad idea. Already his containment vessel as warning him he was at 80% capacity, he really shouldn’t be drinking more. But it couldn’t be helped, nerves alight, leaving him needing to do something to distract himself. Which apparently seemed to be drinking, and drinking, despite the fact that he was already pressing his crotch tightly down against his chair.

“So, uh, Nines, you been doin’ ok, kid?”

Nines was pulled out of his thoughts, and he found that Hank was wearing an expression of concern. As was his brother. Such concern, but it was misdirected. He was doing this for them, being and becoming better for them. So all he could do was offer a soft smile all while battling the growing anxiety and pressure in his abdomen that left his squeezing his legs tightly together, resisting the urge to squirm and fidget, lest he tip them off to what was wrong.

“I’m quite alright. I’m just mulling over my current case. I may retire early for the night to get adequate rest and perhaps give myself time to assess the evidence I have logged away in my mind palace. But I hope you enjoy your meal.”

“Brother, are you su—”

“Yes, Connor. I’m fine.”

Nines hadn’t meant for his words to come out so snippy and clipped, hadn’t meant to allow his expression to crease into something harder. More evidence of his failings. He’s found himself losing his composure easier and easier in the past week, and though deviancy has made his emotions unpredictable, he’s never been this wildly out of control. It was disconcerting. He needed a solution, he needed a way to stamp this out before he burned his bridges permanently. With a polite nod he made his way to the bedroom, pressing his fingers between his legs on instinct when he was out of view, shuddering at the thought of another long night and a morning faced with a desperate race to the precinct. When did this house cease being a home to him? And when would he be deserving enough to have it back?

 -----------------------

**Connor groaned in his stasis, and in moments he was pulling out of it despite his HUD reading 2:36 A.M., hours before his internal alarm was set to rouse him for work in the morning. He’s only ever woken up involuntarily a handful of times, most of them being when his dearest brother was in the throws of some nightmare (typically of his time still trapped within the laboratories of CyberLife). And the prospect of that reason being why he had awoken now had him wide awake, tossing himself out of his bed to pad across the small room to his brother’s. It wasn’t a nightmare, but something about Nines seemed off.**

**His brother usually slept so peacefully, still, sometimes with the hint of a small, content smile on his face. Connor could make out lines of distress, discomfort, the way the RK900 pressed his face against his pillow as if to seek comfort. And his body was making minute movements, readjusting, wriggling. Odd. Even humans don’t typically move about so in their sleep. Not unless…the android pulled the covers back gently, and his suspicions were confirmed. His brother had his legs twined together tightly, his hands rubbing in a slow motion back and forth over his groin. He’d noticed the RK900 hadn’t been using the bathroom at home over the last week, he’d thought nothing of it at first. But now a horrifying realization crept into his mind; his brother no longer felt comfortable at home. His anxiety was intense enough to force him to suffer like this, and it made Connor's chest ache.**

**Connor had to remedy this. He had to talk to Nines. This had to stop. There were a lot of walls being thrown up, a lot of misunderstanding, and this is not the sort of relationship he wanted with the android that meant so much to him. But first thing was first. He shook the sleeping android gently, trying to rouse him from stasis, and all he did was groan, trembling, hips bucking against his hands.**

**“Nines. Brother. Wake up!”**

**A yellow flash of his LED, cycling through, then icy blue eyes started fluttering open, peering tiredly up to Connor. There was questioning on his face, then horror, and the faint sound of hissing filling the silence of the room was all Connor needed to tell him just what was wrong.**

\------------------------ 

By the time Nines realized when he’d been roused from stasis by his brother, it was far too late for damage control. His fluids suddenly and unexpectedly burst forth, seeping through his clutching fingers. He bolted upright abruptly, begging his body to control itself, begging this embarrassing tide to stop. He pressed himself down onto his hands, whimpering and whining, but it was all in vain. His body refused to heed his demands. So he gave in, head hanging in shame, turning his face away to hide the tears burning his eyes and threatening to fall.

“Oh, brother…”

Nines pulled himself away from Connor’s warm embrace, refusing the comfort, refusing his love. Because he simply didn’t measure up enough to earn or deserve it. For all that he’s tried to improve himself over the course of this week, he was still the hideous mess he was on that day. Still jealous, still burning with embarrassment over his insecurities. Why couldn’t he measure up to Connor? Why couldn’t he be good enough?

“Nines, listen to me, please. Just, look at me?”

Nines finally complied, looking up to his brother, whose soft brown eyes held nothing but love and that same patience he always had. He could feel gentle hands, one on his shoulder, one cradling the back of his head, forcing his gaze on those eyes. He could glance away if he wanted to, but something in those eyes commanded his full attention.

“Why? Why this wall between us? I’ve forgiven you for what you’ve done. I’ve tried reaching out to you again, and yet you resist. What do you have rolling around in that mind of yours?”

Nines wanted to resist, he wanted to shake his head, deny, tell his brother there was no wall there, nothing holding Connor an arm’s length away. But he could no longer lie to himself, nor his brother. After a week of holding it all together with a thin piece of thread, he finally broke. The sobs were violent and loud, unable to hold them back even for Hank sleeping in the room nearby. He found himself now clinging to his brother, and Connor wrapped him up securely in his arms in return, letting out a soft hum in an attempt to soothe.

“Because I’m not good enough! I’m…I wi-ill never be good enough. You are so-o full of life, so bright, and I just ca-an’t hold it together! I fucking try and I can’t do it! I just…want to be good enough. I want to be better. I want…I want you to be proud o-of me! You, a-and Hank. I don't want to be-e _this_ anymore!”

There. It was out in the open, out in the air. All of his dirty laundry to be judged. And he waited for the judgement, waited for his brother to agree with a vindictive sneer. But there was no cruelty forthcoming, only a tightening of those arms and a sad little sound that seemed almost offended on Nines' behalf.

“Oh Nines, you’ve always been good enough. Just because we’re different, it doesn’t make you any less of a person or any less worthy than anyone else. It’s ok to be different. I happen to like how you feel so strongly. I may be one of the special few who sees it, but your emotions make you so vibrant and colorful in ways I've never seen before.”

Nines was quite surprised by his brother’s words, yet found some sort of comfort in them. Here he was trying so hard to measure up, and yet Connor, not once, thought any less of him. His brother, in fact, seemed to admire him and his peculiarities. Which didn't make sense, couldn't make sense. They weren't oddities to be proud of if they were a hindrance, and yet the RK800 didn't seem to think them as such. How?

“If we’re being honest tonight, I thought myself lesser than _you_.”

“You…w-what?”

“You are the superior model. And you were correct at the crime scene. It was something I had missed and what you said, it resonated with me and made me feel quite inadequate. There has always been a fear that the DPD would replace me eventually. Perhaps Fowler would find you more efficient and discontinue my employment. And the thought…the department is my home away from home and it would hurt me to lose that. I talked with Fowler about my concerns and it turns out they were quite unfounded. Perhaps we both have been misunderstanding each other.”

Nines couldn’t possibly be hearing Connor right. _He_ was worried about being lesser than _him_? That was so very far from the truth, but the admission made him feel silly, foolish. They both have been misunderstanding each other in a big way, and if they had only just talked sooner then this could have been resolved. It made a borderline hysterical laugh bubble forth through the sobbing, and he couldn’t help but nuzzle his face into the crook of his brother’s neck. The tears no longer mattered, the cooling pool of liquid soaked into the sheets seemed so insignificant. All that mattered was his brother, those supportive arms, this bubbling warmth brewing in his chest.

“I suppose the lesson learned is w-we should talk these things out sooner.”

“Agreed, I—”

“Hey, ya’ll ok—Nines?”

Nines and Connor both looked up to see a sleepy Hank standing in the doorway, rubbing his eye tiredly while taking in the scene. The RK900 looked away sheepishly, shrinking against Connor, but his brother only coaxed the man into the room. Hank moved to sit on the bed, noting the wet sheets but opting, thankfully, to say noting about it. He didn’t need to.

“I…I’m sorry I…I didn’t mean to. I couldn't...I-I...”

“Kid, what’s this all about?”

“I just…want to be good enough for Connor. For you. For this…family. I'm sorry I can't be better.”

Since when did he want to be part of this family so desperately? Nines had never realized it before, never given it much thought, but he wanted those moments with Hank and Connor, wanted those laughs and smiles. He wanted what they had together, and it threatened to make his jealousy rear it's ugly head again at the thought. If only he knew there was nothing to be jealous about. He could feel another set of arms bundling him up, quite the amused expression on the old man's face.

"Since when were you not a part of this family? Kid, me and Connor might be able to shoot the shit and be sarcastic little bastards together, but what do you call me sharing old movies and songs with you? Or talking about all of that sappy sentimental shit that makes your eyes light up like a damn run way? We might have a different way of talking but it doesn't make what we have any fucking less than what I have with Connor! You're my boy, and I'm proud that you're my boy, ok? don't let anyone,  _including_ yourself, tell you any different."

Nines was quite awestruck, stunned into silence, and all he could do is bury himself deeper into their embrace, a soft smile on his face. So maybe he was different. So maybe Connor was better at talking with people, relating to people, and maybe he'd always be the star of the DPD, but he didn't really need to be. Not so long as he had a home to come back to and a family to love him. Because then all of the pains of deviancy would be more than worth it.


End file.
